


Family

by eldritchMortician



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Forgiveness, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchMortician/pseuds/eldritchMortician
Summary: After the events of Far Cry 5, the Deputy has a very long time to reflect on her actions and their consequences. Joseph is there to pick up the pieces.





	Family

She didn’t know how long it had been.

The minutes, hours, and days were much the same in the bunker. After all, there were no windows, no way to see the sun. The only thing she had to mark the time was Joseph coming to her room to bring food. Even that she wasn’t certain was in any way regular. He always seemed calm enough, but she wasn’t convinced he was doing much better mentally than she was.

He’d let her out of the cuffs eventually, but she’d been too tired, too shocked and injured to even try to fight when he’d locked her in the room that was her world now. That had been some time ago. The injuries on his face, and all over her, were visibly better since then. It helped to have a bed, and a toilet and shower. Joseph brought her clean clothes, and took away the old ones to be washed. With no concept of time, all she could do was count meals, sleeps, and showers. Sometimes she woke up with a tray on her bedside table. Sometimes she waited for what felt like hours for breakfast.

Joseph hadn’t said a word to her since that first day.

At first it was a relief. After all, what could she say to him? He’d said the world was ending, and he was right. He’d said the bunkers were needed to protect people, and they were. She hadn’t listened, she had fought him, she had destroyed his preparations. And when the bombs fell, he’d carried her inside, despite all she’d done. She still wasn’t sure why, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

As time went on, however, the silence became oppressive.

He brought her food and clothing, set them down, and walked away with barely a glance. Sometimes he was wearing his jacket, or his vest. Sometimes he was shirtless, tattoos and scars etched across his skin. Once, and only once, he looked almost ordinary in worn jeans and a black tee shirt. That day had been strange. He’d stared at her a long moment, his eyes red-rimmed, blue irises tinted green behind the yellow lenses. She was pretty sure he’d thought about killing her that day.

The next time she’d seen him there was a fresh burn mark on his arm, and he wouldn’t look at her. That had been… nine… maybe ten meals ago?

It was getting harder to judge by her sleep cycle, as lately she hadn’t been.

She’d had training. She knew the shock was wearing off, that she was having symptoms of post-traumatic stress. Every time she tried to sleep she heard the bombs coming. Moments after finally drifting off, she woke up sweaty and thrashing from dreams of trying to save someone--anyone.

Joseph brought food, and took it away mostly untouched. He didn’t remark on it.

How many people died because of what she’d done?

It was the question that kept her from sleeping, put her off her food.

She’d known. The moment Joseph’s eyes met hers for the first time, she’d known.

She’d known it would not end well.

And yet, not wanting to disappoint the others, not wanting to be the spooked rookie, she’d cuffed him and started the whole goddamn disaster.

Everyone she’d freed from the bunkers probably died. She’d gone in guns blazing to rescue them, and in doing so doomed them. How many times had Joseph told her she was wrong? Jacob and Faith warned her. John told her with his dying breath that she wasn’t saving anyone. “What if Joseph is right?”

And he was.

Now everyone she’d been so certain she was saving, everyone she’d worked so hard to free was probably gone. Nick, his wife, his baby. Grace, and Sharkey, fucking Hurk… Eli dead at her hand, Hudson, Pratt, and Whitehorse in the car… even Boomer…

It was the last thought that broke her. The thought of the dog she was so used to having at her side made it all real. One little nudge that brought down her already shaky stability. Everyone she knew was probably dead. And she’d as good as killed a significant number of them.

She sobbed until she retched, her empty stomach bringing up nothing but bile and acid to splatter on the floor under her. Her body shook, her abdomen aching, her lungs and eyes burning. Perhaps she wailed. She didn’t know. She knew nothing but the guilt and misery that left her curled up on the cold metal floor, sobs racking her body.

It felt like an eternity as more and more tears came, and she felt like it would never end.

She didn’t hear the door open, didn’t know he was there until a hand rested on her head, stroking her hair with a gentleness that didn’t feel deserved.

The former deputy cringed away from the touch at first, trying to stop herself from crying, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve, but Joseph was undeterred. He said nothing, sitting beside her on the floor until her desire--her need--for comfort outweighed everything else. When he pulled her to him, she went willingly.

He didn’t recoil as she rested her head on his lap, despite the state of her, the tears and snot and vomit. He let her cry herself out, rubbing soft little circles on her back, brushing hair out of her face. Part of her wanted to push him away, to crawl into a corner with her back to him. He was her enemy. She had been hunted by his people, hurt by them, drugged, brainwashed… she had killed his family and he still saved her.

She trailed off eventually, the sobs calming, and she drew in long, shuddering breaths. Wordlessly, Joseph handed her a bottle of water, and she sat up, gulping it down her parched throat. They sat quietly for long moments until she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice rough from crying and from disuse. She didn’t dare look up at him.

His hand settled on the back of her head gently, comfortingly. “I forgive you.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment. It was not the response she was expecting. Part of her wanted him to hate her. To scream at her. If he killed her, well, hadn’t she bought and paid for that fate? “Why?” she asked, finally looking at him, searching his face for something--anything--to explain.

Joseph’s blue eyes were as intense as the first time she’d ever seen them. She could see why he was the Father. Why his followers had been so willing to follow him to hell and back without a word of complaint. Being in his presence, the object of his focus, was almost overwhelming. She didn’t resist as he drew her close, resting his forehead on hers. He reached up with his free hand, fingertips ghosting over her cheek. “I told you there was a reason you came here,” he said softly. “The reason I saved you. The reason I forgive you. You are all I have left. And I am all you have left.”

She swallowed, leaning into his touch. After so long without words, without contact, it was like feeding a craving. “Joseph--” she began.

“Shh,” he said. “It’s all right.” He pulled back, hands cupping her face, and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You are my family now.”


End file.
